


A Love-Hate Thing

by WolfenM



Series: The Unending Story [1]
Category: Stargate - All Series, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Character Study, Drama & Romance, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, Episode Tag, Episode: s10e20 Unending, F/M, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Introspection, Missing Scene, POV Daniel Jackson, POV Third Person, POV Vala Mal Doran, Romance, Spoilers for Episode: s10e20 Unending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 10:38:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8976313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfenM/pseuds/WolfenM
Summary: Daniel's and Vala's states of mind during and somewhat after *that scene* in "Unending" ....





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in 2007, tweaked slightly for this reposting (I figure it's about time I get my Stargate stuff posted over here).
> 
> This fic was nominated for a 2007 Stargate Fan Award. Many thanks to whisper99 for her fantastic summary-post in her LJ, which I used as reference and inspiration (along with the episode itself, of course)! Writing this fic and reading the "Unending"-related fics of others prompted me to start [The Stargate SG-1 Unending Fanwork Challenge livejournal community](http://community.livejournal.com/sg1_unending/). 
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Daniel Jackson, Vala Mal Doran, Sha're, and the Asgardians, ©/TM Stargate (II) Productions, Kawoosh Productions, The SCI FI Channel, Showtime/Viacom, Sony/MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, Gekko Productions.

Things had been going so well between them.

So well that she couldn’t have hurt him more if she'd sucker-punched him instead of coming on to him. He was furious. He thought she'd changed! Yet here she was, falling back on her old tricks -- with _him!_ He thought they were _friends!_ He thought she respected him more than that! He thought ... he didn’t know _what_ he thought. There was something there, yes, something that his conscious mind was absolutely refusing to recognise. But the more he yelled at her, the more that thing was edging into his mental peripheral -- something he'd kept caged in the recesses of his mind had escaped and was waiting to devour the rest of it.

He was suddenly, wholly, and unequivocally terrified. His voice got more shrill as his exclamations grew more enraged, more snide, more .... more in _denial_ over the possibility that he had any feelings for her. He wouldn't -- _couldn't_ \-- admit any such thing; if he did, he would be giving _her_ admittance to his oh-so-well-guarded heart. She'd break it. She simply wasn't careful enough.

He told Vala as much, saying that she'd proven herself trustworthy professionally-speaking, yes, but not as a potential lover. As he spoke, he realised he'd said something similar to her, about having proved she'd change her ways and how proud he was of her for that, on the night she'd been kidnapped.

 _And that's the heart of the matter, isn't it?_ the "something" that threatened his mind, his sanity, asked. _You lost her once, and it scared you how much it hurt, how much it reminded you of when you lost Sha're ...._

He just got louder, more vehement, more vicious towards Vala, trying to drown the thoughts out. If he could push her away, get her to stop pursuing him, then maybe the something in his head that filled him with such foreboding would stop chasing his thoughts around as well.

He called Vala an emotional wreck, without having a clue as to just how close he was to truly making her into one.

_Hypocrite._

He told Vala that he wasn't much better, repeating himself firmly, as though anticipating the thing in the back of his mind would contradict him on that count. There was no "better" about it. He conceded his fear of being hurt again, aloud to Vala, though he was really talking to that unnamable thing within him. And he was _still_ arguing with that thing in his head when he told Vala that he was finally ready to move on after his wife's death.

 _ **Are** you?_ the thing asked. _Then why are you _yelling_ at this gorgeous creature, who's stood by your side through countless dangers and even risked her life, rather than shagging her senseless, you **dolt**? Good grief, what's your criteria for someone to be **worthy**?_

That just made him put up more of a fight. She wasn't his type, so why should he sleep with her? Just because she was _there?_

_Because you **love** her. And love doesn’t care what your "type" is._

Daniel did the mental equivalent of holding his hands over his ears and going "Lalalalala." It didn’t matter how he felt about Vala (and he most certainly was _not_ saying he loved her) because _she_ didn’t love _**him**!_ This was _just_ like that time when he'd found her in his bed -- he was nothing more than a _distraction!_ He'd had enough of being the universe's bitch -- he'd be damned if he was going to be _hers_ , too!

~ *@* ~

Things had been going so well between them.

So well that his sudden outburst _now_ hit her a hundred times harder than a similar tantrum he'd had a lifetime ago, when he'd tossed her out of his bedroom. He _had **hurt**_ her then, yes, but since they'd barely known each other at the time, the emotional pain was only akin to brushing against a wound that was half-healed over anyway. She'd been able to bite back the tears and anger, and give back as good as she'd gotten, laughing it off. She'd been able to tell herself there were plenty of other fish to snare in the black sea of space, so what this particular one thought didn’t matter. She'd been lying, but she'd been able to believe the lie.

This time, when he rejected her, the breath had almost literally been knocked from her, leaving her speechless. She was so stunned that she could barely even _think_. She wasn't laughing, she wasn't able to hold the tears back, and she wasn't able to tell him off. They'd gotten too close over the months; he'd slipped inside the shields she'd built around herself, just as she'd _thought_ she'd done with _him_. Or maybe she'd willingly left herself wide open to his verbal attack. Either way, now she had nothing left to defend herself with, the wound he'd dealt her soul bleeding readily, sapping all of her strength. Now she just wanted to curl in a corner like some animal and die quietly, somewhere well out of his rampage.

Besides, what could she defend herself with when, in truth, she felt he wasn't even entirely off-base? He had every reason to think this was just a lark for her, and echo of what she'd tried back when they were bound by the Kor Mak bracelets. Hell, she didn’t know why she'd insisted on pursuing him in the _first_ place; he had a point when he said they were all wrong for each other. He always had his nose buried in some boring book, scroll, or database, while she couldn’t sit still. He was the kind who always did the right and noble thing -- it came naturally to him -- whereas lying and stealing and cheating were all as easy as breathing to _her_. She had to work hard at being "good"; why _should_ he want her then? Sam was certainly more his type!

Vala hadn’t meant to offend him, hadn't meant to cross the invisible line she hadn’t even realised was still _there_. But just as she didn’t have the strength to defend herself, she also didn’t have the strength to apologize.

There was a tight feeling in her chest, her throat, and a burning in her eyes. She _hated_ feeling this way, hated being a "weak and weepy woman", the kind of girl her former, far less noble associates had always spoken disparagingly of. The kind of woman they liked to make a _victim_ of. It never even occurred to her that letting Daniel _see_ that weakness, that vulnerability, would be handing him the very proof he needed to finally see she was being sincere in her desire. It never occurred to her that such and act would show him that he _meant_ something to her.

She'd only said that she didn’t mean for him to be serious about a relationship with her because she thought that was what he _wanted_ to hear, that anything more would scare him off or make him _laugh at_ her. Better a fling than nothing at all. But no, that had only made it _worse_ \-- he was certainly laughing _now_ , wasn't he? How could it all have gone so horribly, horribly wrong? She thought now that they were close enough of friends to take this next step! So how could he be looking at her now they way he had back on the _Prometheus_ , when they were strangers, enemies? How could her gentle Daniel be so ... _cruel_?

She finally understood the Tau'ri phrase about "love-hate relationships"; before, she hadn’t been able to understand how it was possible to feel such opposing emotions about the same person at the same time. Now she realised that that was _exactly_ how she felt. If she didn’t love him so damn much, she wouldn’t be hurting so much or hate him so much for causing her such pain. She couldn’t bring herself to face him because she loved him enough to not want to hurt him back -- as she feared she _would_ , if she looked him in the eye at that point.

He'd said the Asgard had, in their good intention, made a fatal error that had doomed their race. Had she done the same with their friendship? She couldn’t meet his eyes as he spewed his disgust, couldn’t watch the death of their relationship (such as it was), couldn't let him see how he was hurting her -- not because she didn't want to give him the satisfaction, but because she held onto the hope that, if he thought this was just another one of her games, it might eventually blow over, as it had before, and they could go back to being friends.

She just had to let him get it all out, and then he'd feel better and forgive her. Wouldn’t he?

* * *

Why wasn't she saying anything? Where were the innuendos? The denials? The coy rationalisations? The insults? Vala never shut up -- _why wasn't she talking??_

He lost momentum, the fight going right out of him. Something was wrong.

No, this wasn't his fault -- _she'd_ started it! He was right, she was acting -- _just_ like that other time. She'd pretended to be hurt then, and she was doing it now!

_And you're so sure it was an act back then? All right, let's say it was -- where are the theatrics **now**?_

She sniffed faintly, but still said nothing, keeping her back to him.

Uh-oh. Was she ...?

No way. She was just playing him, like she'd always done. He pushed worry away with disgust, and told her not to act hurt.

And there it was again, a jagged little breath. He knew that sound.

It was the sound of a desolate child trying not to let anyone know they were crying. It was _not_ the melodramatic sighs of a con artist trying to pull the wool over someone's eyes.

The something in his mind grew clearer -- and he grew ill in the process, guilt settling heavily in his gut. He mentally replayed the beginning of the conversation, just before she'd touched him and set off all his alarms in the process. He'd been talking about the Asgard, how he could understand how they could want to live so badly that they made such a grave error, and saying that life was too short. He heard the way she said, "I agree," again. Heard how, when he'd asked her what she was doing, she'd said, "Something we should have done a long time ago." There was a note there he hadn’t noticed before, having been too outraged at her actions. That note in her voice wasn't skanky, or slutty, or even flirty, it was ... _affectionate_? _Loving?_

The replay continued, and he saw her eyes again, as he'd rejected her. Hurt, confusion. There was even a sort of innocence there, her behavior seeming perfectly normal in her eyes. He couldn’t deny it now; she well and truly hadn’t understood why he was upset. She'd asked him if he didn’t find her attractive and he'd asked if she really wanted him to answer that question. He heard the embarrassment, the apology, the _fear_ in her voice as she told him to forget about it.

Yes, he decided now, she _was_ crying. No more games.

His guilt was still there, but now it was tempered by other things: wonder and curiosity, and something he barely recognised ... _hope_. Could she _really_ ...?

Heart doing jumping-jacks worse then when he'd had three pots of coffee, he came to sit beside her. The jumping paused a moment when she turned away. His guilt flared -- along with the fear that he'd just broken whatever they might have had between them with his tirade. He reached out and laid his hand on her shoulder. "Hey..."

She withdrew even farther, covering her face in her hands. "Just ... give me a minute," she pleaded, clearly trying to compose herself, trying to sound normal while her voice slightly cracked.

Though his heart cracked a little itself with the sound, still his paranoia niggled at him. He had to see her face, had to see her tears for himself, and make absolutely certain no crocodiles were lurking ....

"Look at me," he told her gently, brushing her hair back over her shoulder, surprising himself with the surge of affection he suddenly had for her.

After a long pause, she finally obeyed. The look in here eyes said she was definitely hurt -- and a little angry.

_But why would she be hurt and angry if all the things you accused her of were **true**?_

She turned away again, with a certain noble deliberateness, as if she'd decided that she wouldn’t dignify his remarks with a response. He didn’t blame her.

In fact, it only made him love her more.

The something that had been lurking in the back of his brain for so long came rushing to the fore, making short work of the remains of his denial -- at least in regards to his own feelings for her. He'd never let himself admit his feelings before for a large assortment of reasons, really, but one of the strongest had been that he simply didn’t think _she_ could love someone like _him_. It left him in awe to think she really might, but no matter what, he couldn’t hide his feelings from himself anymore. The light was lit, and it wasn't burning out again anytime soon.

He reached out and gently turned her head, cupping her cheek, brushing away a very real tear. He could see something beneath the hurt, the anger, and part of him dared to believe it really was love. But another part of him still wasn't satisfied.

He leaned forward, hesitant, and pressed his lips to hers. She was equally hesitant for a moment, before she returned it.

It definitely wasn't the kiss of someone who didn’t care.

Their first kiss, aboard the _Promethues_ , had been good, he had to admit -- _great_ , even -- but that one had been all lust, and maybe even a bit business. It had been empty. _This_ one was about as far away from the first as one could get, save for that is was still great -- better than the first, in fact. Oh, there was still desire in it, but it was by no means empty or brisk. It was slow, tender, nervous even. And yet despite the softness of it, it had substance to it; if emotional weight were physically tangible, it would have crushed them. It wasn't the kind of kiss he thought anyone -- even her -- could fake.

Reeling a little, he pulled back. He still couldn't quite believe it, but he knew know that he _wanted_ to. A little giddy, he smiled.

* * *

She couldn't remember ever seeing him smile like that, bright and shining like a sun. Her tears, and her anger, seemed to evaporate before it. It didn’t matter what he'd said just moments before -- if that was what it needed to happen for them to reach where they were now, it was worth every second of anguish, and then some. What was it he'd said the Asgard had included in their datatabase? Ah yes. _Good things come to those who wait._

"You better not be messin' with me," he said, and she realised it was as much a plea as a warning. He was letting her into her heart, but she needed to tread carefully. If it turned out she was playing him, the backlash would make his recent ranting seem like a pleasure cruise. Good thing she wasn't -- she just hoped it didn’t take too long to prove it to him.

 _No time like the present_ , she thought, as she began to kiss him again, in earnest. She just hoped it was earnest _enough_ , as she drew him down with her to lie on the bed. Or maybe _he_ was the one pushing _her_ against the soft surface. A girl could hope.

In truth, as they tentatively began to touch each other in ways neither had ever dared before, it was virtually impossible for her to tell who was instigating what. It had never been like this for her before; there was no calculation on her part, no attempt to control the pace or elicit certain responses in her lover. Their bodies were holding a conversation, hers responding to his without any prompting from her mind. She'd never had a lover who seemed so attentive to her own needs, or knew so well what she wanted without being told. She wondered if he had fantasised about this as often as she had; perhaps they had both lain awake at night at the same time and actually shared the same fantasy. At the very least, she had expected her shy and bookish boy to be far more of a novice than he'd turned out to be. She let herself enjoy his expertise, enjoy finally, _finally_ being allowed to share herself with him this way. She tried not to wonder if he'd been with better than her, trying not to think he might be comparing her to Sha're, trying not to worry that he might simply be "settling" for her because there was no one else. And for a while, his touch and the pleasure it brought distracted her from her insecurities.

But only for a while.

When he finally collapsed beside her, exhausted, those insecurities came crashing down on her. She sensed him turn to look at her, and she turned away, once more trying to hide her tears and regain her composure. She should be elated -- no, she _was_ elated -- but she was so very frightened, too. As the tears fell, she thought maybe half were with joy, and half were with sorrow.

" _Vala?_ " Daniel asked, shifting beside her to lean over her, his voice and eyes filled with worry. "What is it? Did I _hurt_ you? You ... you weren't really a ... a _virg_ \--"

"No!" she assured him, finally facing him. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw the kind look in his eyes. Maybe she was worrying over nothing. "Daniel ... I guess I'm ... _confused_. I mean, one minute you’re saying h-how wrong we are for each other, and the _next_ ..." her throat grew tight, the hurt still there, buried deep.

His eyes lit with understanding, and he bowed his head in shame. But he quickly looked back at her, reaching out to cup her cheek. She'd always loved it when he did that, feeling like it represented his reaching out to her emotionally as well. The first time he'd done it, she'd felt like she'd achieved some sort of personal victory, like he was telling her she'd was worthy of being close to him. She felt that way now; that touch somehow meant more than their love-making.

"I didn’t mean those things, I swear," he whispered. "I _have_ thought about us being together, and it scared the hell out of me. So I tried to convince myself that a relationship would never work between us -- and I blamed _you_ for it. I'm so sorry, Vala ...."

She shrugged, granting him a small smile. "I haven't exactly given you much reason to not doubt my motives in that department. But ... you do know that I was _lying_ when I said I didn’t expect you to take this seriously, right? Because I _do_. Even if we ever get out of this, I couldn’t bear the thought of my life without you in it. No one's _ever_ made me feel like that before... You do _believe_ me, right?"

* * *

_How could I have ever doubted her?_ he wondered as he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. He felt another pang of guilt for putting it there. As strong as she often seemed, he _had_ seen this vulnerability in her before; how could he have forgotten that she was as capable of it as anyone else? He smiled back at her, bittersweet, as he stroked her cheek with his thumb. "Yes, I believe you. And I do take this _very_ seriously -- I wouldn’t have done this if I didn’t. The question is, can you believe _me_ , when I say ... that I _love_ you?"

She smiled back ruefully. "Even though I drive you crazy?"

He gave a small laugh. " _Especially_ because you drive me crazy." And he kissed her, wondering why he'd deprived himself of the taste of her for so long.

"Daniel?" she whispered when they drew apart again, their lips still close. She looked him directly in the eye. His heart skipped a beat as she smiled, all trace of doubt gone, only sincerity remaining. "I love you, too."

~ FINIS ~

**Author's Note:**

> If you've enjoyed my writing, I invite you to explore my original fantasy storyverse, [Gaiankind](http://gaiankind.com)! You can even find Gaiankind stories for free [here](http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Gaiankind) on AO3!


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